Time Warp
by PrecociousK
Summary: They left without a word. Two years later, they came back. ON HIATUS - Writer's Block
1. Smell of Cologne

Sitting at the deserted bar, I twirled the toothpick I'd been chewing on for the past five minutes in my glass of cheap champagne lazily, my chin resting on the palm of my hand. All around me, there seemed to be smiling people enjoying a glass of the spiked apple juice but frankly, I just found it appalling, especially since after a couple minutes of sipping on it, the drink had begun to nauseate me drastically. For the past two hours, my rear-end had been firmly planted in the stool I was occupying, my eyes scanning the large room for something even remotely interesting that had nothing to do with the disgusting drink in front of me.

"Are you kidding me?"

Glancing over my shoulder, I bit my lip to keep from inappropriately laughing at how disheveled my best friend already looked. Her hair, which had taken about an hour to straighten, was simply a ball of frizz and the red satin dress I'd helped her pick out, which had at one point in the night been stunning enough to attend a high-class cocktail party, was now hiked up halfway up her thighs, most likely by a few desperate guys.

"I beg your pardon?" I teased.

"Seriously, Tay, if I'd known you'd be on your ass the whole time, I wouldn't have invited you."

"Hey," I frowned mockingly. "I've got a great view from here."

Rolling her eyes, Miley took a seat beside me, motioning for the bartender to get her another Cosmo, her third of the night. As serious as she'd sounded, we both knew that neither of us would be at the party had it not been for me accepting the invite; Miley rarely attended parties without me tagging along and she wasn't about to start on New Years. Even though she complained every once in a while about my lack of social skills, she enjoyed my company.

"Well, the view's much better out there," she informed me, winking at the bartender as he placed her drink in front of her. "There are an infinite amount of single, hot guys out there just looking for a little loving." Judging by her smeared lipstick, I figured she'd already given a handful of them all the loving they could handle.

"Then it's a good thing you're here," I smirked.

I brought my glass to my lips, ignoring the voice in my head that was begging me not to, and forced the contents down my throat in an attempt to block out her scowl. Of course, because of the face I made after the drink had made it's way down my throat, Miley couldn't help but burst out into a fit of giggles. But could she seriously blame me? The cheap champagne was al I could afford to drink thanks to my status as a lightweight and it wasn't the best; you'd think with the amount of money the man of the house made almost on an hourly basis, he'd be able to afford the finest champagne in the city.

"Follow me."

Downing the remainder of her drink in the blink of an eye, Miley jumped off her stool and motioned for me to get up as well. Once on my feet, her hand clasped around my thin wrist and she hauled my ass across the room towards the back rooms, leaving me to maneuver my own way through the sea of sweating bodies as best as I could without tripping over myself. Seeing as how neither of us knew the owner or his daughter, the idea of heading into someone's private bedroom unnerved me a bit, but Miley seemed perfectly at ease as she pushed open a random door and shoved me inside before shutting and locking it behind herself.

"Are we even allowed back here?" I asked, looking around at the large room.

"I don't know," Miley shrugged sheepishly. "I just needed some fresh air."

"You realize we're still inside, right?"

"You know what I mean," she shot me a mocking glare.

"Unfortunately," I shrugged teasingly.

The bedroom had a king-sized bed perfectly positioned in the center of the room, two identical nightstands with identical lamps on each side. The beige curtains that had been pulled back to reveal the breathtaking city below us matched the bed's smooth comforter and the silky-feeling carpet. The matching bed-frame and the dressers were light brown oak, giving the room the slight contrast in color it needed. Following my feet, which led me to the colossal bed, I pulled my phone out from under my dress and sat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, a couple of teal sheets folded neatly on the edges.

"Will you ever change?" Miley asked as I scrolled through my inbox.

"Not in this lifetime," I shrugged, disregarding my phone. "And probably not in the next."

"Joe used to say that," Miley smiled morosely, her mind racing off to the raven-haired boy she'd had a crush on for the better part of a year. She was silent for a long moment as a sour feeling surged through me, threatening to have me stalking out of the room before she could speak again. "I wonder what they're doing."

"Speaking of changing," I sighed, "why don't you start by not mentioning them anymore?"

"Quit being so touchy," she snapped teasingly. "I know you miss them, too."

"Seriously, Miley?" I pleaded with my eyes. "Isn't tonight about new beginnings?"

"You can't just dump them in the past and pretend they never mattered," Miley crossed her arms, our lovely mood shot to hell. "They're three of the most important people in our lives, Taylor, and you know that."

"Too bad the feeling isn't mutual," I muttered.

It wasn't like Miley hadn't known before bringing up such a morbid topic that I wouldn't make an effort; in fact, she usually brought this up just to see if my reaction to it would be any different from the last time she'd brought it up. And again, she'd sulk after realizing that my opinion hadn't wavered. When the look she gave me as she walked towards the dresser with a metal-framed mirror hanging above it gave me goosebumps, I thought for sure she would chuck her shoe at me because of the frustration her facial expression told me she was feeling. Instead, she simply sauntered over to my side and took a seat, eyes boring into the side of my face, hoping for some sort of façade to just disappear.

But this wasn't a façade and it wasn't going away anytime soon.

"Just admit you miss them, too."

"When pigs fly," I pretended to yawn.

"Okay, smart-ass," she smirked. "Deny it, then."

There was just no end to the constant persistence. Kicking off my Gucci heels, I glared at them instead of glaring at her; my feet had been aching all night, thanks to those stupid things I despised almost as much as I despised our conversation. They did nothing but squeeze my feet to a point where I couldn't feel anything anymore. Yet I'd let Miley talk me into wearing the damn things tonight because of how 'incomplete' my look would've seemed without them. How girls could walk around with mini-torture rooms on their feet, I would never understand.

"Quit being a shit about this, alright?"

"I just want a straight-forward answer," Miley replied softly. "One that doesn't involve insulting or sarcasm. Just a straight-forward, honest-to-god, sincere answer. Then I promise I'll let it be and just shut my mouth for good."

"I find it a little hard to believe that after the last one I gave you, you'd want more."

"Please, Taylor?"

I let about a minute of silence consume us as I though up the best answer I could for her damn question. There were so many things I could have said, should have told her, but I kept most of them locked away in my mind, never to be spoken of through my lips. Apparently, the best I could do was sugar-coated to a point where everything that had happened two years back seemed minimal; the emotions that came with this conversation prevented me from revealing too much and I hated it.

"I don't expect anything from anyone, Miley," I sighed. "And when I finally did, they let me down."

From the look that crossed her face, I could tell that it had been an insightful breakthrough for her. So many questions were swarming through her eyes, begging me to let her all the way in on this and just trust her with my emotions but I couldn't, I didn't know how. When it came to the three guys who'd meant so much to me, I could never let anyone entirely in. It was something so easily disturbed that I figured it wasn't worth risking it, that maybe I should just play it safe and let small little fragments of my true emotions slip through the miniscule cracks that had appeared around my wall.

Before any more could be said, I walked over to a door I'd been eying for a good three minutes, the doorknob exceptionally bright. Pulling it open, I could feel all my angst seeping away as my eyes landed on a gold mine of clothes. Dresses, shirts, pants, shoes lay before me, in a mess that just made me want to laugh and cry and, surprisingly enough, plan my funeral in that small, cramped sad excuse of a closet. But the clothes had me hooked, like heroin.

"They've never let you down before," Miley's voice drifted towards me as I flicked the light switch.

"True," I replied, half drunk off the sight before me. "But when it mattered most, they did. So as far as I'm concerned, I'm not concerned with them. It's quite simple really," my voice began trailing off as I spotted a black dress with sequins on the side. "I just manage not to think of them."

"Don't be like that, Taylor," Miley walked over to the door frame, leaning against it with a look in her eyes that seemed to say the world was about to fall on top of us. "They care about you but they had to leave."

"For a tour," I shrugged. "I'm well aware, Miles."

"Exactly," she persisted. "They have their reasons."

"Stop making excuses for them," I sighed. "It won't change anything."

"What if they're going through something?"

"A phone call takes two minutes," I muttered. "It's not like they'd have had to jump on a plane and come back."

Nodding irritably, she walked back to the bed and sat down, her eyes studying me skillfully; if I didn't know any better, I would have thought she was having a schizophrenic moment. But I did know better, which is how I came to the conclusion that she was hiding something from me, something she knew would have some sort of negative effect on me. It would've explained why she was always defending those idiots when she knew nothing could ever justify their sketchy move in my eyes.

"What is it, Miles?" I asked, startling her.

"What?"

"You're hiding something," I narrowed my eyes.

"I'll tell you," she caved. "Just don't get mad."

"Why would I get mad?" I questioned innocently, naively.

The look she was giving me made me feel like she was getting ready to heave. My eyes looked past the small doorway, darting around the beautifully furnished room and all I could think about was how much of a shame it would be if she blew chunks all over it. Putting the shoes I'd been trying on away, I started for the door, wanting to get her to the bathroom a couple rooms down, when she finally collected herself and gave me a teary frown.

"I've been talking to them."

The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. Miley, the only other person besides Oliver who'd shared my feeling of devastation when our best friend had succumbed to cancer and our other three best friends had taken off without a single word, had been talking to them. And just moments ago, when I'd technically poured my heart out to her and entrusted her with what I could muster up as how I was feeling, she'd had the answers I'd been desperately looking for since the three guys had left. If someone didn't feel empty and betrayed after discovering a truth like this, then there weren't many cruel things in the world.

"This is the worst New Years ever," I breathed as I walked out and put my shoes on.

"Taylor, where are you going?" Miley jumped up almost automatically.

"I'm leaving."

"I wanted to tell you!" Miley was on the verge of tears. "Honest, I did! But I--"

"Just stop it, Miley," I snapped. "Stop lying because you're not helping."

"I'm not! I really did want to! But Nick made me promise--"

"If you'd really wanted to tell me, you would've," I hissed, pissed beyond comprehension, "instead of watching me struggle with my emotions like I'm some kind of reality show you can just get high off of. But that's really not the point."

"Then what is?"

"I have a right to know what the hell's been going on these past couple of years and not one single person seems to agree with me," I replied as calmly as I could without blowing a fuse. Fighting in a stranger's penthouse, in a room we weren't supposed to be in in the first place, wasn't exactly the idle thing to do.

"I know it sounds bad, Taylor, but try and see this from my point of view!"

"Oh, believe me, I'm trying," I held my hands up. "But I just keep picturing you going through what I went through and the answer's obvious." Miley crossed her arms, her eyes begging me to just forgive her but it was too soon. "You should have told me, Miley," I added, giving her a look I'd never actually thought I could muster up for anyone. "And the fact that you didn't tells me where your loyalties lie."

The worst part about leaving Miley with her hope of resolving this mess before the new year crushed was that for some reason, I felt as if I hadn't gotten the whole truth out of her. Granted, I just couldn't get out quick enough thanks to my pride but either way, considering the huge ordeal we were now going to have to deal with, I should've at least questioned her a bit more thoroughly for a bit more information. Yet my voice of reason told me I didn't need anymore information than what I already had; Nick had asked Miley to keep the secret from me and try as I might, I couldn't keep my heart fro aching at the thought. The laughter and shouts coming from the pit of drunks drowned out the sound of my heartbeat accelerating as I pushed through the crowd, desperate to get out of there.

"5… 4… 3…"

Grabbing an unattended bottle of the cheap champagne with one hand, I concentrated on the clicking of my heels as I sped towards the door. Thankfully, I had yet to hear Miley calling me back from behind me and to be honest, I wanted to pass on that; greeting the New Year in a stuffy elevator filled with bad music didn't amuse me for a second but when my only other option was to spend it in a room full of drunken partiers and a friend I was no longer on speaking terms with tonight, a pity party for one was definitely sounding more like a step-up than a step down, which is what it really was.

"2… 1… Happy New Year!"

And as my good fortune would have, when I pulled the wooden door open, I found myself looking into a pair of chocolately brown eyes I'd truthfully never thought I'd lock eyes with again. It was a moment of shock for me, the overwhelming feeling to throw my arms around the unexpected visitor almost to strong to fight, and before I could regularize my breathing – much less get my common sense working properly again – I felt the bottle slip from out of my grasp which only sparked the panic in me. As I waited for the cringing sound of glass shattering against the cool tile to reach my ears, Nick's eyes turned away and that's when I realized he'd caught it. He smiled charmingly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, as he leaned forward, increasing the proximity between us, and set the bottle down on a side table.

"Happy New Year, Taylor."

The smell of his cologne threatened to burn down all of my defenses, but as quickly as I'd let myself go, I pulled myself back together.

* * *

**There's so much I can do with the Nick/OC; it's quite liberating.**


	2. Shitty Hangovers

The blaring alarm clock on my nightstand literally ripped through the silence in my head, producing the most painful feeling I'd ever felt before. My overly exposed ear seemed to have gone deaf as I forced my eyelids back and unsuccessfully made to knock the damned thing off the stand, wanting the demonic sound to stop. When I finally managed to hit the snooze button, I sat up in bed and in less than a minute, another wave of pain washed through me along with a bit of nausea. Dragging my ass out of bed, I carefully walked over to my closet to grab one of the striped hoodies Oliver had forgotten at our place, loving the feel of the smooth, worn out cotton.

The apartment was quite as I stepped out into the main room, not making a single sound in case Miley was up and about. The last thing I wanted was to run into her and be forced to communicate with her; the argument from last night was fresh in my mind, along with other not so pleasant memories, and regardless of what she'd said, she'd still lied to me and allowed me to spend all my time in distress.

"Morning."

Clenching my jaw shut, I raised my eyes over to where the voice had come from but held back the urge to burst into tears as the sight before my eyes confirmed what his voice had insinuated. Nick was sitting at the kitchen's island, sipping on some coffee while Miley stood awkwardly beside the fridge, a bottle of water and an icepack in hand. Sadly, seeing as how there was no way around it, I was going to have to tolerate the fact that the two most atrocious human beings alive were currently residing in the kitchen I had the unfortunate luck to be sharing with Miley; as long as she said it was okay for him to be here, he'd be here.

"I'm guessing you're heads throbbing," Miley spoke up, trying to divert my attention. "Here."

She slung the icepack over to me, hoping I'd catch it which thankfully I did, before holding up the bottle of water and rummaging through the medicine cabinet for something. Throughout the seven minutes it took for me to finally approach the kitchen area and Miley to hand over the Advil and the water, Nick's eyes had travelled back to me about half a dozen times. He seemed to be torn, part of him wanting to speak to me but another wanting to give me space. So far, giving me space wasn't working.

"I hope this is okay," he began unsurely, catching my eye again, "me spending the night."

"Why wouldn't it be?" I asked, looking over at Miley. "I'm assuming you two planned this, right?"

"Taylor, I--"

"Headache," I touched my head briefly, signaling for Miley to shut up. "We can talk later."

"Taylor, listen to me," she snapped, causing me to wince. "I asked Nick to stay over so you two can talk."

"And what makes you think I want to?" I asked, grimacing as I uncapped the Advil.

"Stop being so thick-headed," Miley groaned as Nick looked down at his coffee. "Just hear him out. Please."

Meeting his eyes again, I showed no emotion whatsoever, something that both of them had realized long before the conversation had even started. I took a sea across from him and brought a knee up to my chest as the other swung lazily from the stool, my Advil and water on the counter in front of me. Miley had yet to sit down but considering this was going to be hard enough without her stupid ass getting involved, which she had already done, I didn't say anything.

"No," I replied simply.

"I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't think it would help," she persisted.

"You've done enough, thanks," I shrugged before popping a couple pills into my mouth and taking a sip of water. "I don't want to fight with you, Miley," I added, looking at her with a sigh threatening to escape my lips. "I don't care that you lied anymore, Miles, or that you just left," I looked at Nick, making him shift uncomfortably in his stool. "I just want you to drop it and let things go back to normal." Grabbing my bottled water, I made to head back to my room but Nick's voice stopped me.

"Don't leave, Taylor."

"I need to be somewhere," I replied casually.

"We need to talk," he asserted himself.

"About what?"

"About us," Nick stood up, walking around the counter towards me.

Again, his proximity had me spinning, his smell intoxicating me; it'd been a while since I'd felt like this and to be honest, I had missed it, more than I'd thought. But considering the circumstances we found ourselves under, I cleared my mind and took a couple steps back, my eyes saying all that I couldn't.

"What _about_ us?" I shot back.

"We can't leave things like this," he shook his head. "It's not healthy for either of us."

The string of profanities that piled up in my throat hurt. How could he possibly stand there and say something like that to me? How could he be cynical enough to start caring after two years of damage had already been caused? It hadn't been healthy from the beginning, even before he and his brothers had left and just now he was starting to realize that? The thought of letting my lips run wild and inflicting the pain he'd inflicted on me crossed my mind, but the look in his eyes told me he already knew what I wanted to say; he'd always known.

"Read my lips, Jonas," I forced the words out. "I'm not interested."

---

The rest of the day was pretty much as vague as that morning, with the exception that my headache had gotten slightly better, no thanks to the two morons sitting in the living room. Nothing was important enough to leave my room for, much to my dismay, so I literally spent the next four hours after my brief interaction with Nick locked away behind closed doors, not giving either him or Miley even the slightest indication that I was still breathing.

A knock on the door interrupted my train of thought.

"Taylor," Nick called my name, hoping I'd change my mind. "Just talk to me."

"I'm busy," came my robotic response.

"Don't lie to me, Tay," he snapped, irritation evident in his voice. "I know you well enough to tell."

"Apparently I don't know _either_ of you well enough," I shot back, running a hand through my hair as I studied the outfit I'd picked out for myself in the body-length mirror, "considering all I've been getting are lies." The plaid shirt I wore was comfortable, yet fashionable and it went perfectly with the white shorts I'd slipped into after locking myself in my room. Now, slipping on my black, lace-up Vans, I realized I'd have to walk out there eventually and deal with that pesticide.

"It's not Miley's fault, or the guys'," Nick took full responsibility. "It's mine. So if you're going to hate anyone, it should be me, not them."

This was starting to bother me, I decided as I crossed the room and pulled open the door. Raising my chin, I watched as his eyes went from depressed to mildly stunned in the time span of a second before I rolled my own and crossed my arms.

"I don't hate you," I admitted. "Just give me a few days."

"Would it help if I explained myself?" He looked hopeful.

"Actually," I cocked my head to the side in dismay, letting my arms fall, "it wouldn't." His frown only grew as I stared at the wooden floorboards and took a deep breath. "In the past 24 hours, not only did I find out that Miley's been talking to you three for the past two years, but you showed up out of nowhere. I need time to digest everything before I can even think about talking to either one of you about anything."

"Joe and Kevin want to talk to you, too," he told me.

"Don't push it," I raised an eyebrow, grabbing my bag as I walked out of my room and shut the door.

I hated this, all of it. Nick and I had never been on such bad terms before and t start now, two years after seeing each other last wasn't the best way to start, especially since this wasn't one of those stupid fights that friends just got over eventually; this was a legit argument that would take more than a while to disappear. And now Joe and Kevin were a part of it, no doubt one of Miley not-so-subtle suggestions.

"Where are you going?" Miley's voice filled the air behind me.

"Out."

"Where?" she asked again.

"Why do you care?" I asked, clearly disapprovingly.

"You're my roommate," she shrugged. "And my best friend."

"If you're going to start playing the best friend card," I tried to keep the scowl off my face for her sake, "you might want to figure out how to be one first because your definition compared to the rest of the world's is completely different in comparison."

* * *

**Talk about taking forever. I need to update all my stories faster.**


	3. Feeling Cornered

**Two Hours Later**

"So how are you feeling?" Oliver asked as we took a seat beside a window. "I heard you had quite a few drinks last night."

"Only because Miley's an idiot," I grumbled.

Getting Oliver's phone call that morning was probably the only thing that had kept me from going completely insane. There was the fact that I could have voluntarily walked out of the apartment to get away from the likes of both of them but why should I have to leave _my_ apartment because of jackass who hadn't even been invited... properly. Just because Miley had given him the okay to stay there didn't mean I was automatically okay with it; I was insulted, really, that he would accept knowing how sore our friendship was. Besides, giving him the satisfaction of running me out of my own home was the last thing I wanted to do.

"That's why they say 'Never drink your sorrows away'," he lectured me, not that my head was pounding hard enough. Noticing the murderous look that crossed my features, he let out a soft chuckle before moving on. "How much did you end up drinking?"

"A bottle of Vodka, a couple of beers, a shot of tequila and rum," I ticked them off on my fingers.

"Hot damn," Oliver laughed. "It's a miracle you're even up."

"I'll say," I rolled my eyes, bringing my coffee to my lips. "I feel like I just ran in front of a speeding truck."

"So did it help?"

My temper flared up once again at his stupid question as I mentally smacked myself over and over again. Twenty minutes into the topic and already he was asking stupid questions that he already knew the answer to. When, in all of alcohol's history, had getting pissed drunk ever helped anyone before? If anything, it only served to complicate the situation more and considering my small run-in with Nick that morning, I took that as a confirmation.

"I woke up with the urge to kill," I hissed, resting my chin on the palm of my hand. "What do you think?"

"No?" he bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Hit that one dead on," I replied sarcastically.

The waves were crashing against the beach, their ocean spray splashing a few people walking along the boardwalk. The wind started picking up outside, the trees lining the streets shaking. The sound it made as it whipped alongside the glass window soothed my raw nerves as I did my best to keep myself together in front of Oliver.

"I know he hurt you, Taylor," Oliver began, somewhat wiser than he had been a second ago, "and it's perfectly reasonable for you to be pissed at him. I would be too if you or Miley'd pulled this kind of crap on me. But don't you think there's the slim possibility that you might be overreacting just a little?" he asked, bracing himself for a torrent of profanities that were sure to be piling onto my tongue as he leaned back in his chair.

"I'm not overreacting," I shrugged. "I'm just ignoring him."

"Exactly," Oliver leaned forward again, moving his coffee cup out of his way. "I mean, he did come back to make things right. At least listen to what they have to say before you completely shoot him down... again. And now that Joe and Kevin are here, you might want to listen to them, too."

"I don't want to listen to anyone, Oliver," I snapped.

"Why not?"

"Why is it that everyone I talk to about this keeps defending those three?" I traced the line patterns on my coffee cup. "They're the ones who left, they're the ones who shut me out but _I'm _the bitch that's too cold-hearted to forgive them." Frowning, I leaned back in my chair and just watched more waves crash against the pier on the end of the beach. "Why can't you or Miley just try and see things from my point-of-view?"

Oliver remained quiet as my eyes drifted to anything that wasn't him. Maybe he genuinely hadn't thought about it like that, I told myself as he began to fidget with his own cup. It wasn't that much of a surprise considering he was a guy and guys were superficial when it came to arguments; after a while, they tended to just get over it as if it hadn't been a big deal, afraid they'd look like pansies if they shared too much emotion. But I wasn't a guy and my emotions were on the brink of exploding. I couldn't just sweep this under the rug and forget it'd ever happened while I went along with my merry life; I'd be a hypocrite.

"Nick wouldn't intentionally hurt you," Oliver finally broke the silence.

"Yeah, well, people change," I blurted out without thinking.

"You make him sound like some sort of criminal," Oliver chuckled.

"I thought we were getting coffee," I pointed out, suddenly aggravated, "not reenacting the past couple of years of my life."

"It just kind of came up," Oliver smirked. "Along what other things."

"What's your point?" I narrowed my eyes.

"You have feelings for Nick," he replied as nonchalantly as if he were discussing the day's weather. "That's why you're so ridiculously set on keeping this fight with him going. You're just scared of trusting him again, am I right?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're crazy."

"Am I?" he smirked. "Or are you just hoping I am?"

"No," I nodded. "You are."

"Just admit it," he teased.

"There's nothing to admit."

"Now you're just being stubborn," he gave me that knowing look of his.

"Am not."

"Then admit it."

"No!"

"Say it, Taylor."

"No, Oliver."

"Say it or I'll just tell him," he threatened.

"You wouldn't," I called him out on his bullshit but as he pulled his cell phone out and scrolled through his contacts, my certainty began to waver. Oliver was known for doing impulsive things, even if he regretted the afterwards. But risking this was too much. "Fine! I'll say it, Oliver!" I snatched his phone out of his hands before the finger that'd been hovering over the call button could move a single fraction closer to it. "IlikeNick," I mumbled, hoping it would be enough.

"What was that?" Oliver pestered.

"I like him," I muttered, glaring at him.

Oliver smirked, standing up and throwing his cup in the trash. "Let's go."

"Where?" I asked lividly, standing up as well and following him out the door, coffee still wrapped tightly in my hands.

"Back to your place for some real coffee."

---

"Remind me again why I let you idiots drag me into this?" Joe sighed, his head resting on the back of the couch. It had taken almost an hour of persuading from Miley to convince both his brother and himself to come over and wait with Nick for Taylor to get back from wherever she'd gone, but now, even though he'd been all for it in the beginning, he was starting to doubt how shrewd the plan really was.

"You were already part of this," Miley rolled her eyes.

"What exactly makes you think she's going to listen to us anyway?" Joe questioned, cocking an eyebrow. "I mean, you said so yourself, she's been avoiding Nick all morning and he's her favorite. It's only going to be bloodshed with us."

"I'm not her favorite," Nick muttered.

Miley shook her head, too worked up to listen to Joe complain. "She's not really going to have a choice, is she?" she asked them, giving them a look. "Ignoring Nick is one thing, but ignoring Nick _and_ you two is borderline impossible." As certain as she'd sounded, her answer did little to reassure the three guys sitting across from her along the large, white couch. Fortunately, though, Joe seemed to be handling his agitation then Nick and Kevin were.

"What if she just leaves?" Kevin piped up.

"I sincerely doubt that," Miley retorted, her foot's tapping to the beat of her heart. "Just make sure you ease into the conversation, alright? The last thing we need is you pissing her off more than she already is and wiping out the rest of the liquor cabinet."

"Since when does she wipe out liquor cabinets?" he questioned, mildly amused.

"Since New Years," Miley shot a glare at Nick.

"Thanks to your big mouth," Nick spat.

Her jaw clenched at the comment and instead of lunging at him and clawing his eyes out like she wanted to, Miley resorted to smoothing out her floral skirt and taking a deep breath. He could play stupid for as long as we wanted but Miley knew just as well as he did that it had actually been something else that had triggered such alcoholic behavior from Taylor. When she met the younger boy's eyes, she tried her best to keep her tone charming and gentle.

"Blame me all you want," Miley breathed, "but it wasn't my face that set her off."

---

"You should ask him out," Oliver teased.

Pulling out my keys, I rolled my eyes at his comment, the thought lingering in my mind for a fraction of a second as I unlocked the door. It was only natural for the harmonious smile on my lips to flat out disappear when my eyes landed on the two new guests sitting across the couch, along with one I'd been hoping would've been gone by midday.

"You're still here."

As I dropped my keys on the side table, I tried to ignore the surprise on Nick's face. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting me to acknowledge him so quickly, much less speak to him. Now that I had, all I was waiting for was for the four of them, counting Miley, to get on with their horse and pony show. I knew them all too well to know that walking in on this little bittersweet reunion was anything but a coincidence; they'd all planned it. While my eyes took in the guys' anxious expressions and Miley's hopeful one, I couldn't help but wonder if this had been the reason why Oliver had called me up and asked me to meet him at the coffee shop.

"Yeah," Nick finally replied. "I am."

"Just so you know," Miley spoke up, sensing a change in the brunette, "this was my idea. Not Oliver's." Oliver froze when he heard his name, his eyes wide with confusion. "We lucked out when he called you today."

"How wonderful for you," I feigned a smile.

"Don't be like that," the lighter brunette sighed.

"Like what?" I asked. "Annoyed? Sarcastic?"

"Both actually," Miley challenged, raising her eyebrow to indicate how irritated she was. "Just hear them out, Taylor. You've got nothing to lose."

"And nothing to gain," I replied flatly.

"Quit being so unbearable," Joe piped up, growing uncomfortable with the conversation. "Apparently, answers are all you've wanted since we left and now that you have a chance to get them, you're blowing us off? I mean, we came all this way for you."

"Who asked you to?" I shot back.

Joe immediately grew silent, catching on quickly. It wasn't that I was mad, because in all honesty, anger was the last emotion I was feeling at this moment. All I felt was anxiety and discomfort being so close to them again; it'd taken me a good amount of time to get used to the idea that they were gone for them to just pop back into my life like it didn't have any sort of negative repercussions. In the end, when they left again, all the progress I'd already made would have been for nothing.

"You didn't have to," Kevin helped his brothers out.

During the entire conversation, I tried my best to keep my eyes vacant of emotion, not wanting to give anything away so soon in this little episode. Obviously, after Kevin had spoken up, I couldn't hold the mask I'd been hiding behind up anymore, my will to hide everything from them shot to hell. Mystery had been my partner in crime for the longest time and everyone in the room knew it except maybe for Oliver who just seemed to be oblivious to details; even though every fiber in my being told me to just drop the act and throw it all out on the table, the desire to keep everything in was too strong and in the end, succeeded.

"What do you say?" Miley asked, a soft smile gracing her pink lips.

Everyone's eyes darted to my face, only accomplishing to intensify the feeling of being placed under a microscope for me. By the look on their faces, everyone was either expecting me to breakdown and just accept their proposition or storm out of my own apartment, cursing and spewing fire out of my mouth. The truth was, had my reputation not been in jeopardy by these three nuisances, I probably would have done just that; I just couldn't let them run me out of my own place for something as irrelevant as whether or not they meant to hurt me when they'd packed their shit and taken off the day after our best friend's funeral and intentionally kept me in the dark for two years.

"I say," I deadpanned, "maybe next time, you might want to plan your ambush a little more carefully." Raising my phone to look at the time, I couldn't help the peeved smirk that appeared on my face as I shook my head. "I have work in the morning."

"Shit," Miley groaned, slapping her forehead. "I completely forgot."

"As much as I'd love to keep on discussing such a useless topic," I forced a smile as I backed away towards my room, more than aware of the five pairs of eyes watching my every step, "I don't really want to, so... good night."

* * *

**Anyone have romantic ideas?**


	4. Boasting

A week had passed since Miley's plan had tanked.

I hadn't spoken a single word to her – or even looked at her for that matter– with the exception of the few occasional grimaces I sent her way to show my annoyance. As easy as it'd seemed when I'd first thought about it, it truly wasn't; it wasn't until now that I realized that Miley and I relied on each other for just about everything. I could barely make coffee without losing my temper and cursing the stupid coffee pot out. And to add the missing cherry on top of a perfect sundae, she spent most nights curled on the couch watching _Manhattan_ over and over again, chowing down on some Rocky Road and blubbering about how Mary and Isaac should have ended up together.

It was heartbreaking, really.

"Are you ever going to talk to me again?"

Looking up from the magazine I'd been flipping through on the couch, my eyes landed on the devil herself standing atop of the landing beside the door, a perfectly manicured hand on her hip while the other held a Macey's shopping bag loosely. She'd arched one of her eyebrows and pursed her lips in that manner she usually did when something was bothering her.

Instead of responding, like she'd hopped I would, I simply shut the magazine and stacked it on top of the twenty others sitting on the coffee table, picking them all up and starting for my room. I heard her scoff slightly but continued ignoring her, hoping she'd take the hint that I'd been dropping all week: I didn't want to speak to her.

"Taylor," she groaned, "this is so immature."

"Don't start with that," I replied as casually as I could, not stopping to look at her, "because sneaking a boy into my room just screams immaturity."

"I was just trying to help you!"

"I already told you," I spun around to look at her, "I don't want your help."

"Because you're doing so great on your own, right," she shot back, making me fume in my PJ's.

"Actually," I pointed out, "I'm not trying to fix anything."

"And that's exactly why I did what I did," Miley exclaimed, heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she made her way towards the kitchen island, too pissed to remain standing any longer. "You're too stubborn to fix this on your own so I had to impose if I wanted to salvage your friendship with those three."

"Why should I have to fix anything," I snapped, suddenly irritated by her constant persistency. "I'm not the one who lied for two years to my supposed best friends."

"Well, you're definitely not letting them fix anything either," Miley retorted, dropping her bag beside the mail I'd brought in earlier. "So that means either you let them or you do something about it."

"I'd rather eat–"

"Don't say it unless you plan to," she interrupted, holding up a hand. As she lowered herself into one of the stools, she let out a long, exasperated sigh before leaning her elbows against the marble counter top. "I just don't want you to lose him, Taylor," she admitted solemnly.

"Lose who?"

"Who do you think," she scowled. "Nick!"

Balancing the magazines on my hip, I stiffened at his name and what she implying. She looked up at me, those baby blues piercing right through me, making me feel naked as if they could see straight into my soul or – even worse – my heart. Holding the magazines in place with my left hand, I flexed my right one, feeling the muscles tensing up as the anxiety built up within me. I hated being caught of guard; this always happened to me when I was.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I managed to say without my voice cracking.

"Don't play stupid with me," she smirked. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Without warning, the magazines slipped out of my loose grip and scattered at my feet, getting a low, annoyed groan out of me. I glanced over at Miley briefly as I plunked my butt down on the floor and started piling them up again, one by one, hoping to God she hadn't realized how close I had been to having a heart attack.

"See," she pointed out. "You can barely function without going weak in the knees over a certain curly fry."

I heard the stool scrape against the floor and more clocking of her heels, heels that at one point had been mine. As she knelt down beside me and picked up a Cosmopolitan by her feet, I got a whiff of her perfume and couldn't help but let a smile spread on my lips. It was the new Sarah Jessica Parker fragrance, Lovely, that Lilly had gotten her for her birthday the year she'd passed away. The way Miley treasured that bottle was insane; she'd never once used it, seeing as how she never got a chance since Lilly had gotten sick soon after and left us barely weeks after she'd received the gift.

"Just because you keep things to yourself doesn't mean I'm oblivious to them," Miley chuckled softly, handing me the magazine.

"Right," I sighed, stacking the Cosmo. "I guess I should start working on that."

I avoided her eyes, for more than just one reason, trying extremely hard to concentrate on the task at hand. As I reached over to grab one of the Rolling Stones that had landed a couple feet away, I felt my heart stop beating completely when I saw who was on the cover of that specific issue. Rolling my eyes, I picked it up and thrust it under the large pile at my feet; it was hard enough hating the Jonas Brothers without having to constantly see them everywhere I turned.

"I just don't want you to regret anything later on, T," Miley nudged me softly, snapping me out of my thoughts. She let herself plop down beside me, kicking her heels off in the process, and crossed her legs.

"I know," I looked over at her. "But it's hard."

"I know," she smiled.

"For the record," I shrugged, letting my hands drop from the magazine pile in front of me, "it's been really hard not talking to you."

"I'll say," she laughed. "Watching Manhattan without you just isn't the same. Every time Yale betrayed Isaac, I just kept wishing you'd pop out of thin air."

"And that stupid coffee maker you bought," I scowled as I thought of the damn thing, brushing my bangs to the side and stretching out my legs, "sucks. My coffee's been practically water all week."

---

Hanging up the phone, he sighed, leaning back into his armchair and shutting his eyes. Why was he always placed in the middle of every argument anyone in their circle of friends was having?

It was only a matter of time before Taylor found out about this and then, the hunt would commence and his head would be the target. He just hoped it took longer than just a few minutes for the news to reach her. That would at least give him enough time to skip town or think up a good excuse, not that he needed to. They were, after all, his friends. He couldn't just turn his back on them in their time of need because Taylor wasn't on good terms with them. Something about the idea, though, striked him as completely ridiculous, seeing as how Taylor was one of the most charitable people he knew. As angry as she was with the Jonas boys, she would never ask Oliver to turn them away; her heart wouldn't let her.

But she wouldn't be happy about it either.

The girls practically lived at his apartment, whether he was home or not. If she just happened to stop by one day and walk in on the three most despicable people – in her eyes- she'd ever met, things were likely to get messy quick. _The least I could do is tell her_, he thought to himself as he opened his eyes and stared out the balcony door.

As he made to stand up, a sudden pounding on his door startled him, scaring the crap right out of him. The shock the sudden noise gave him practically made him jump out of his skin, a thought he was still significantly aware about as he opened the door with a huge scowl to greet none other than Miley Stewart.

"Don't scowl, Oliver," she frowned. "It makes you look bloated."

"What a lovely surprise," Oliver deadpanned.

"Isn't it always," she grinned as she breezed past him.

"Yeah," Oliver humored her, closing the door. "Where's your key?"

"I left it at home," she shrugged, settling down on the couch and crossing her legs as she propped her purse up on the seat beside her. "Now please explain to me what the hell you were thinking when you agreed to let the guys stay here and how the hell you're planning on telling Taylor because bluntly is not an option."

Mentally slapping himself, he plopped down beside her, moving her purse aside, and gave her a defeated glance. That had been a mouthful but it was Miley after all and whenever she got worked up, she tended to speak a little more rapidly than what was considered normal for her. Keeping up with what she said at these times had proved – on countless occasions – to be freakishly difficult, but for some reason, Oliver had no difficulty keeping up with her heightened speech today.

"First of all," he began slowly, "how the hell do you know about that?"

"I know everything," Miley huffed. "Now answer my question."

"Actually," Oliver smirked smugly, "I think you asked more than one."

"Stop being a smartass."

"They needed a place to stay," he shrugged. Motioning around the room, he raised his eyebrows. "Note, a place to stay. I have two extra rooms with no one in them. How could I say no, Miles?"

Miley crossed her arms and pouted, looking around the spacious apartment, her eyes lingering on the bedroom hallway. True, the place was large enough for four guys and since the Jonas' apartment had been sold months ago, they needed a place to stay and it couldn't be just anywhere. It had to be somewhere where they'd know they were safe and if Oliver's place wasn't safe, then no place in Chicago was.

"And about Taylor," Oliver continued meekly, keeping his eyes glued on the floor. "I was actually hoping maybe you could think that part up for me."

"You mean tell her, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"You're crazy," Miley shook her head.

"But you live with her!"

"Exactly!"

"Then why—"

"Do I look like I want to be smothered in my sleep?"

"Ugh," Oliver groaned obnoxiously, letting his head fall back against the couch. "She has a temper. How could I forget?"

"Besides," Miley shrugged, "we just made up and I don't want to jeopardize that by telling her something that's going to upset her."

"Wait," Oliver interrupted her. "You guys made up?"

"Mhm," she nodded excitedly. "It all happened so fast I'm surprised it even happened at all."

"How'd you guys apologize?"

"It was more like a mutual understanding than actual apologies," Miley explained. "But the point is I've been telling myself all morning that we'd make up today and turns out, we did! Don't you just love how I'm always freakishly right about these things?"

"Uh, conceited much?"

"Gifted," she corrected him. "And truly talented."

"Alright, alright," Oliver rolled his eyes, getting up and pacing around the room. "Quit boasting, you freak." Ignoring the frown she gave him at being called a freak, he went back to mulling over any and all ideas on how to break the news to Taylor that her once safe haven was now going to be the mortal enemy's campground. "I got it," he announced proudly after a minute of nothing but silence and excessive tapping on Miley's part. "I just won't tell her." Sighing, Miley closed her eyes.

"Good plan. And when she finds out?"

"Hey," he snapped. "Don't be so quick to shut it down without even hearing me out."

"When she finds out, which she will, she'll be so caught up in the moment that she won't even have time to think about the fact that it's my place they're living in." He grinned at his brilliance like a joker. "It's a freaking fool-proof plan." Shaking her head, Miley stood up and grabbed her purse, too speechless to do anything else.

"Like I said," she sighed, "good plan."

Once again, sarcasm dripped off every word, earning her a scowl from Oliver.

"But it's just crazy enough to work," she added. "Just don't let the secret slip, alright? The last thing we need is the paparazzi snooping around and blowing our cover."

"Please," he scoffed. "I don't boast."

Rolling her eyes, she walked over to the door, ruffling his hair as she went – which made him scowl –, and opened it, giving him a small smirk as she stepped out into the hall.

"Keep telling yourself that."

* * *

**I might add a little Jonas action later.**


End file.
